Angels & Devils
by FiferRose
Summary: Sam Wesson & Dean Winchester are in love. Tragedy strikes. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**** This story is made of EMO. You have been warned.  
Also, A/U where our boys are neither brothers nor hunters. **

_**Italics**_** = flashbacks, regular = present.**

**Don't Own, Don't Sue**

* * *

"_So, you really think we'll be together forever?"_

"_No doubt," Dean said, tilting Sam's chin up with the index finger of his free hand. "I really really love you, Sammy."_

"_I love you too, Dean. I love you too."_

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Raindrops fell heavy on the black umbrellas that were huddled beneath an overcast sky. Dean Winchester stood alone, without an umbrella, tears and rain blending on his face. It did not matter. It was difficult to care when you were as numb as he was. He was soaked to the core, but it did not matter. His favorite black suit dripped water. His favorite silk tie was ruining in the rain. It did not matter. Nothing did anymore.

Just before Dean fell blindly to his knees, he whispered to the sky, "Forever, Sammy. I love you forever."

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

"_So, how'd you two meet?" Sophia asked. _

"_Oh, wow. Your turn to tell the story," Sam said as he nudged Dean with his elbow._

"_Aw, but you tell it so well…"_

"_Not as good as you tell it."_

"_Fine," Dean said, laughing at Sam's teasing smug expression. "Well, uh, we actually met at a family reunion. Yeah. Now, before you jump to conclusions, let me explain," he laughed. "Yeah. A couple of years ago, I had this amazing apartment, but rent was getting a little steep, so I used this roommate finding service to get somebody in there to help me pay for the rent. They hooked me up with this total frat boy named Alex. One day right after he moved in, he went off partying and completely smashed his car on the way home, and to top it all off, his family reunion was taking place that next weekend. Of course, Alex still didn't have a car. He said he wanted to clean up his act, so I felt kind of sorry for him, and the reunion was only a couple of hours away, so I told him I didn't mind giving him a lift. I needed to get out for a while. Anyway, there we were a couple of days later, road tripping. Let me add that I practiced tremendous restraint in not leaving Alex at one of the seventy-three rest stops at which he had to stop and take a leak. Anyhow, we eventually got to the park where the festivities or whatever were going on, and he started dragging me around to different people, introducing me to everyone, telling little family stories, all that jazz."_

"_And the infamous Alex happens to be my cousin," Sam interrupted. "I was already at the park, playing tag with the little kids and I heard my aunt screaming that her 'baby boy' had finally made it home! So, I basically start looking for somewhere to hide, trying to avoid him. But then I catch a glimpse of this _gorgeous _guy, that is most definitely not a member of my family and decide that it might be worth the torture of spending five minutes with my dreadful cousin just to meet him." Sam squeezed Dean's hand and smiled at him._

"_And that's basically it. Introductions were made, and here we are," Dean finished. _

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean vaguely felt a pair of hands gripping his shoulders, shaking him gently. He felt as though he was floating, far away, while his body stayed behind to go through the motions. He stayed in the weightless, warm place for as long as he could, and when it finally felt like Sam's hands were within reach, Dean awoke into the cold rainy world.

After the service, Dean returned to his hotel room. He did not want to stay for the food or the family, and doubted that he could stand to hear another '_I'm sorry for your loss,_' or even worse, the '_I understand how you feel_.' He had received enough condolences to last a lifetime, and yet they did nothing to help. He just needed out. He could not go back to his house, had not been there since the morning of the surgery. He had slept in the hotel for four nights now. Anything he needed from the house he either sent someone after, or did without. If he could live without Sam, which _somehow_ he had, so far, he could live without anything else.

Dean peeled off the robe lent to him by the pastor of the church. He threw it on the bed beside the bag holding his wet socks and underwear; some relative or another sent the suit to the dry cleaner's. Dean removed his shoes and shuffled to the small bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower as hot as he could stand it, and stood beneath the cascade for a moment before sliding down the wall to the shower floor, where he remained slumped until the water grew cold.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_ The first time Sam and Dean made love came on the same day they first said I love you to one another. The morning started when Dean pulled up to Sam's apartment and honked the horn. Sam was outside mowing the lawn, shirtless, Dean noted with interest, and looked surprised to see Dean. Dean rolled down the window of his car, remembering not to slobber on his upholstery, and shouted at Sam, "Go get dressed! We've got plans!" Sam laughed._

"_Let me finish this patch, and then I'll go get changed. You can go on up if you want. Get a cold beer waiting for me." _

_ "Sure. Is it unlocked?"_

_ "Do you even have to ask?"_

_ "True. You are way too trusting when it comes to stuff like that."_

_ "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll be up in a few!"_

_ Dean took the stairs two at a time and opened the door into Sam's tidy apartment. He left his shoes at the door and set his coffee on the counter before walking to the small double doors leading to Sam's balcony. Dean opened the doors and stepped gingerly onto the concrete landing. It was a solid veranda, but Dean was not a fan of heights, and did not insist on taking unnecessary chances. He could barely climb a stepladder without freaking, but this was worth the view. Sam was on the lawn below, pushing the lawn mower past the last straggling patches of grass. Even from the second floor, Dean could see the sweat glistening on Sam's body, and the ripple of every muscle in his back. _

_ A sudden boom of thunder swept Dean from his reverie. Rain began to fall, out of nowhere it seemed. Sam cursed, and hurried to get the mower back to the property owner's gardening shed. Dean hurried to the front door, slipped into his shoes, and ran down the stairs. He cut Sam off on his way up and pushed him back into the rain. They danced there for a moment, spinning around in the rain. Then Dean took off running, a man possessed with a sudden burst of boyish exuberance. Sam ran after him and the two laughed and laughed._

_Dean slipped in the grass and Sam piled on top of him. Their laughter ended abruptly, but not in a bad way. Sam pushed an eager kiss onto Dean's lips. _

_ "I love you, Sam Wesson."_

_ "I love you, Dean Winchester."_

_ "Good. Glad that's settled," Dean said with a grin._

_ Sam smiled, and then got serious, "Come with me."_

_ Sam stood and untangled himself from Dean's frame and then pulled Dean to his feet. Still holding Dean's hand, he walked up the stairs to the apartment. Once inside, Sam pinned Dean against the wall and kissed him with a fervor Dean had never experienced. With Sam's help, Dean tugged off his waterlogged shirt. The two men moved through the apartment, leaving a trail of clothing. When they finally reached Sam's bedroom, they were completely naked, and neither of them had ever been happier._

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

When the water in the shower got too cold to stand, Dean stood up and turned the water off. He grabbed a towel off the nearby rack and buried his face in it before wrapping it around his waist. He stood before the mirror as he dried himself off. He used a hand towel to wipe a small hole in the steam on the mirror. He almost jumped at the sight of himself. He looked like hell. His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, but at the same time swollen from all the crying. He desperately needed a shave. Dean grabbed a robe from the hook behind the bathroom door and went to shut the curtains. He opened the motel room door and hung a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the front handle. After locking the door, he shuffled back to the bed, removed the robe, and climbed between the blankets. He took some sleeping pills with a glass of water he kept on the bedside table. Dean turned away from the lamp. Silent sobs racked his body until he fell asleep.

Dean woke with a start a few short hours later, jarred out of sleep by a nightmare so vivid, it would haunt him for days to follow.

The dream started innocently enough. Dean, in his dream, was walking along a path that resembled one leading beyond Bobby's junkyard. There was no junkyard here, however. The scenery was beautiful. The deep green grass swayed gently in the wind and the birds chirped just loudly enough to be entertaining, and not obnoxious. Dean walked down the path; towards what he was walking, he could not be sure, and nearly collided with a Detour sign. The tall, metal, Day-Glo orange sign was out of place in the dream, but still Dean followed its directions. The arrows pointed him one way and another through, but Dean never tired, and the sun never moved even an inch in the sky. After what seemed like no time at all, Dean arrived at a small meadow surrounded by trees. A waterfall burbled in the distance, but that was not what caught Dean's attention. A small blanket lay in the grass and a picnic basket rested atop it. Trees rustled to his left, breaking that spell only for a new one to cast itself as Sam stepped from the woods.

"It is okay, Dean. Remember, forever and ever, babe. I'm with you forever."

Dean dropped to his knees in the meadow. Sam walked over to him. Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and pressed it to his mouth, tears coming anew.

"Don't cry, Dean. Look how beautiful it is here."

"I only want to look at you. I miss you so much, Sammy."

"Come on, let's check out the casket."

"What? Did you just say…?"

"Basket? Yes, I did say basket. What did you think I said, silly?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Let's check out that basket."

They moved to the blanket. Sam pulled every delicacy imaginable from that small picnic basket. The men sat together. Sam ate, seemingly unfazed by this dream reunion, but Dean was scared to take his eyes off Sam for fear he would disappear. After Sam ate, he began to rummage around in the picnic basket.

"Hmm. I guess that's it," Sam said.

"That's all the food, you mean?" Dean asked.

"No silly! I mean this," Sam said as he pulled a small gray rocklike object from the basket.

The smile fell from Dean's face and he could not form a coherent sentence. Sam was holding the tumor from his brain. "Sam, where'd you get that?"

"Out of my head, Dean. Where else, silly?"

It began to rain in the meadow. Suddenly, the forest dropped away and revealed a bleak and unwelcoming landscape. Something pulled Dean from where he was sitting and pressed him against what he could describe only as a ceiling. He looked down upon the scene that had moments before been breathtakingly beautiful, but was now no more than a wasteland. Sam stood.

"Goodbye, Dean."

He walked away from Dean, who felt like Alice when she fell down the rabbit hole, only he was going in the opposite direction. Dean screamed when Sam's back was turned. A piece of Sam's head was missing; a gaping, bloody hole existed where the tumor had been. Dean thrashed, but to no avail.

A crash of lightning woke him up.

Dean sat up gasping, feeling tears run down his cheeks. He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He rested his hands on the sink and breathed deep. He stared down at his ring, trying to forget the nightmare.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

"_With this ring, I thee wed," Sam's voice then dropped to a whisper meant only for Dean, "I don't care if it's officially called marriage or not, but I want to spend my life with you. I do not need the government to approve of it. I just need you," Sam uttered. His husky voice was barely audible as he slid a thin platinum band onto Dean's left hand._

_ "I thought we were leaving the politics out of the vows," Dean murmured before continuing his own vows and slipping a ring onto Sam's finger. Loudly, he declared, "With this ring I thee wed." _

_ The judge: "By the power vested in me by the great state of Kansas, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now do what you've been waiting to do since you got here."_

_ Sam and Dean looked at one another and laughed. _

_ At the same exact moment, each man spoke the same sentiment: "I love you."_

_ They laughed again until Sam pulled Dean in for a chaste kiss. The small gathered crowd of friends and relatives cheered._

"_Forever and ever, babe."_

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean found himself unable to return to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the gaping wound in Sam's head. Sometimes he could block it out, exorcise the grisly image by conjuring up a better one in its place, but that tactic worked only for a minor time. It soon became obvious to Dean that he would be sleeping no more that night.

He sat up in his bed and swung his legs around until his feet brushed the carpet. He glanced at the clock: _4:19 am. _He sighed and stood up, the mattress squeaking as he moved. There was not much to do at this early hour, much less in a motel room. Dean lumbered stiffly to the window and moved aside the thick polyester curtains. The revealed scene was a rain sodden panorama of a city mostly asleep. Few cars traveled the road in front of the motel. Of the few that did, most drove by without slowing, but some pulled into the motel. Dean watched each approaching group of people, imagining what business they had in this town, especially at this hour. In the time he stood at the window, he saw two carloads of teenagers, one local, and one from way out of state, three nervous-looking executive-types accompanied by scantily clad females, and even a young family on vacation, Mom and Dad looking exhausted, and each carrying a sleeping toddler. Each little cluster ran to reach their room; it was as if they were afraid they might melt in the downpour.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth prostitute/politician combination visiting the hotel, Dean dozed off in the uncomfortable chair parked beside the window. When he awoke, the morning sun glared through the window. Dean was glad that the sunshine, and not a bad dream, had jarred him into consciousness; if he had any nightmares at all during his drug-induced sleep, he did not remember them. Dean turned his neck to look at the clock, and winced at the pain when he did so. He cracked his neck and then turned his head again, slower this time. Noticing that he had gotten four more hours of sleep, he then stood and reached his arms as far upward as they would go.

Arms still outstretched, Dean moved to the coffee machine. He surveyed the small selection of crappy coffee grinds, and went with the strongest of the three he could find. The coffee machine was simple enough, and Dean set it up to brew as he went to take a shower. This was his usual routine. Wake, stretch, make coffee, shower. Then he would grab the newspaper and drink his coffee while Sam badgered him into giving up the caffeine for something healthier. Dean would politely refuse, saying that coffee took him to his happy place, and that Sam should shut up and leave him alone. Sam always made the funniest face when Dean sent him and his fruit juice packing. Back in the present, Dean laughed, the noise of it startling him. Then the face in the bathroom mirror crumpled as he realized he would never have another of those moments.

Oh, God, how he would miss those little moments.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_ After the wedding ceremony, Dean and Sam finally moved in together. Even though their relationship had already been consummated (multiple times, to Dean's great joy), Sam tried to keep things as traditional as possible, and told Dean he wanted to maintain separate residences until things were official. Dean fought back, of course, but Sam always got his way. Dean knew his only option was to take the plunge, yet he did not feel pressured as he thought he might. He loved Sam enough that it did not matter if he had to wear a monkey suit and say mushy stuff in front of his friends and family. He would stand up there naked on stilts and recite the Chinese alphabet if he had to. Sammy was worth everything imaginable, so Dean got brave and finally popped the question. There were no theatrics and no special effects. All Dean offered was some fantastic beer and a promise to love Sam forever. Evidently, that was enough. _

_ Two months later, both men were officially off the market, and it was time to join their households. Rather than merging two small apartments into one small apartment, both Sam and Dean severed their leases, and they picked out a larger apartment together. On their first night together as a married couple, it was not until the wee small hours of the morning that the men fell asleep, exhausted, holding each other like the first time they had ever been together._

_ That next morning, Sam was the first to wake. He felt a small moment of panic, not realizing where he was, but then a smile settled on his face as the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to him. He snuggled closer to Dean, who blinked his eyes a few times and looked unhappy to be awake. He yawned and threw his arm around Sam's waist._

_ Sam greeted him, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."_

"_Mm-hmm. It is way too early to be a good morning. Well, except that you are here. That's pretty good in my book."_

"_Ditto. But, dude, it's ten o'clock."_

"_Yeah, for people that went to bed at a normal time. Well, that went to sleep at a normal time. We didn't go to sleep until like four this morning," Dean released Sam and then rolled out of bed. He stood and cracked his neck. Then he reached as arms as far as he could toward the white sandblasted ceiling._

"_Well, I guess tonight we can go to sleep early, if you're so tired."_

_ Dean stopped mid-stretch. "That's totally not what I meant. I just meant that we could sleep until maybe noon. I'm gonna go fix some coffee. Want some?"_

"_I've told you, I don't drink that much coffee. Caffeine is a drug, Dean." _

_ Dean turned and began walking toward the kitchen, mouthing along with what Sam was saying about the evils of coffee. He cut him off early. He would let him spout the entire spiel tomorrow morning. "A fruit juice, then?"_

"_Sure. Thanks, hubby."_

_ Dean smiled._

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean remained in front of the bathroom mirror until the little bout of dizziness passed. He studied himself intently, searching for some bit of his former self. Did anything remain? How could it? Was it possible to lose the only thing you loved more than life itself, and still wholly exist? _No_, Dean thought, _it is not possible. What's the point in trying? _Another voice sounded in his head, one of wishful thinking, if you asked Dean. The second voice reasoned, _But Sam would want you to try. If he were in your place, would you not want him to be happy and to stop wallowing?_

"Easier said than done," said Dean aloud, to no one in particular but himself.

He reached for the faucet and turned on the cold water. Cupping his hands beneath the faucet, Dean scooped up some water and splashed it onto his face. He shook off what he could and dried the rest with a tacky bronze towel dangling from a holder that was barely clinging to the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**** Here is the conclusion to 'Angels & Devils.' It took me a while to be able to write in this again. I'm satisfied with the story, though. :) It is sad, heartbreaking, and kind of schmoopy, but all of the above are good in small doses. Yes, thirty-nine-hundred words are considered a small dose.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_ "You know how much I hate to shop, Sam," Dean grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand and guiding the shopping cart with the other hand. _

_ "Well, even with our combined households, we're missing a few things," Sam said, walking alongside the buggy._

_ "Like?"_

_ "Like a towel rack for the bathroom, baking soda for the fridge, cleaning supplies, a shower curtain. The list goes on."_

_ "Fine. Wait- we already have a shower curtain."_

_ "No, we don't. My shower curtain got left behind and yours has pictures of Tom and Jerry on it."_

_ "Exactly! How could we not use mine? It's one of a kind! We'll never be able to find another one of those!" _

_ "From your mouth to God's ears," Sam mumbled under his breath._

_ "What was that, Sammy?" Dean asked._

_ "I said we need to buy some beers."_

_ "I'll drink to that."_

_ "Plenty of time for that after the house is finished up. Well, nearly finished, anyway. After we restock the necessities, we should be good to go for a while."_

_ "Good. I can think of plenty of things I'd rather do than go shopping."_

_ "Down, boy. We've got a lot of work to do tonight."_

_ "Fine. I guess this means our honeymoon period is over?"_

_ "No. Just on a temporary hiatus. It won't kill you to do some work, anyway. I don't want my man to go getting all flabby on me, now."_

_ "You'd love me just the same."_

_ "Don't be so sure…." Sam teased. Dean shoved him to the side of the aisle, laughing all the while. Then, in front of God and everyone in the store, Dean and Sam kissed, and when they returned home, Dean was the hardest working man Sam had ever seen._

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

It had been a week and a half now that Dean had basically lived in the motel. Eleven days since Sam's death, seven since his funeral. As much as Dean wished he could, he knew he couldn't put off his return home for much longer. He thought of all the reasons he should return and of how refusing to return would disrespect what he shared with Sam. He knew that Sam would want him to go home, but Dean did not know if he could go on living in that home as though everything was fine and Sam would be back in a few days. Dean was barely coming to terms with the fact that Sam would not be returning period, much less any time soon. He knew that for as long as he lived in the apartment, hell, as long as he lived, period, every knock on the door would set his heart to racing, because he would always be expecting Sam to be standing on the other side.

Dean packed up his belongings, glad for something to do since he'd decided to skip his morning shower. He'd taken one the night before, after all, and he felt enough like he was drowning without being anywhere near water. Besides, his routine was pretty much shot all to hell now, anyway.

Belongings packed, bed made up military-neat, everything back in its rightful place, Dean called Alex, who seemed sincerely surprised to hear from Dean.

"Didn't think you'd be headed back this early, dude."

"Yeah. Me either. But I gotta go back sometime, you know."

"Yeah, man. For sure. Well, uh, let me take care of a couple of things, and I'll be there. Give me forty-five. I'll call you when the motel's in sight."

"Okay. Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Dean. See ya in a few."

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_"Hey, you've reached Alex. I can't get to the phone right now because I'm ownin' fools. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can._

_ "Hey, Alex. It's Dean. I know it's late. Sorry. Uh, Sam's been complaining of these bad migraines. I'm taking him to the doctor tomorrow, so I was wondering if you could help me out with something. I need some reservations at Le Canard Fou for tomorrow night, so if you're still seeing that receptionist, you know, hook me up. And, um, listen, if these headaches turn out to be something more, do you think you could maybe help look out for the place while we're gone? I'm sure it'll be nothing, but just in case, there's a spare key on top of the light. And make sure you water Sam's damned plants. He'll pitch a fit if something happens to them. Thanks, man. Bye."_

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean stepped into the foyer of the apartment. It smelled of those 'froufrou' candles Sam was always burning. Dean sat his suitcase down beside the door, and the smaller bag stayed on his shoulder as he made his way into the living room. Dean paused at the bookcase. From the topmost shelf, he picked up a framed photo of him and Sam. They were looking at each other rather than the camera, and they were laughing at some shared joke. A lump rose in Dean's throat, and he laid the picture down. Moving on, he braced himself, and began walking down the hallway that led to the bedroom. He had decided on the ride over that he would get the hardest part over with first. Taking a deep breath, Dean paused outside the closed bedroom door. Hand on handle, he turned the knob and took a step into the room. The room looked the same as it had when Dean last viewed it. The curtains were drawn, and the floor littered with dirty clothes. Dean was in such a rush to get Sam to the hospital that the bed had not been made, and it remained so. Dean wondered briefly why he'd expected the room to look any different. He guessed that it was because he was shocked at the way that so much could stay the same when, for him, everything had changed.

Dean dropped his bag to the floor and himself to the bed. Breathing in deeply, he settled into Sam's side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Dean woke a few hours later, still dressed in the clothes he'd put on earlier in the day and absolutely starving. Something about being back in his own home, no matter how empty it felt, gave him an appetite. Plus, he hadn't eaten real food in the longest time.

Dean climbed out of the bed, gave Sam's pillow a light touch, and shut the bedroom door behind him as he walked groggily to the kitchen. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the counter. He pulled open the refrigerator and then closed it immediately as he was met with a rancid smell of leftovers that had been left over for way too long. Alex kept the apartment clean, but apparently had not been brave enough to tackle the refrigerator. It would give Dean something to do later. He straightened a picture and some magnets on the refrigerator door. Dean then took a deep breath, opened the refrigerator, and plunged his hand inside, looking for a cold beer. He found one, yanked it out, and then closed the door. He released his breath after giving the smell of spoiled food a moment to dissipate. Dean turned to the drawer where the bottle opener was kept and handled it like a pro. He was chugging his beer in no time, perched on the counter and surveying the kitchen. It looked just the same. Memories were abundant in this room, but only one came to mind.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_Dean was flipping an egg into the air as Sam shuffled into the kitchen._

_ "Morning, sunshine," Dean began. He stopped when he saw Sam's expression. _

_ "Dean," Sam uttered as he collapsed to the kitchen floor, fist pressed to the back of his head. _

_Dean dropped to his knees beside an unresponsive Sam. He was lost and confused momentarily, but then gained his bearings and did what had to be done. He turned off the stovetop and called 9-1-1. Dean didn't leave Sam's side until the medical technicians pounded on the door. Dean let them in and then got out of their way. He was panicking all the while because Sam still wasn't responding._

_ The technicians tossed around a bunch of medical lingo that Dean didn't have a hope of understanding. Tired of standing in the background, Dean shouted at one of the techs, demanding to know if Sam would be okay._

_ "Sir, we'll do the best we can. Please step back. We're taking him to Sacred Grace. You're welcome to follow us there, but I'd suggest you meet us later. He's going to have to be admitted, more than likely, and he'll need a change of clothes. You won't be able to be anywhere near him until he's stabilized, anyway, so you might as well do him some good."_

_ Dean nodded, watching in fear as Sam was lifted onto a stretcher and then carried out of the apartment. Dean followed him to the ambulance, squeezing his limp hand and telling him he loved him. Then, Dean walked back into the apartment. He nearly ran to the bedroom and began packing an overnight bag for Sam and including a change of clothes for himself. _

_ When Dean finally got to the hospital, he questioned every doctor and nurse in sight until he got news about Sam. It wasn't good, the doctor told him. Sam had a malignant brain tumor, and unless he had surgery, very risky surgery, there wouldn't be a recovery at all. Dean fought the urge to faint, to just fall away and let the earth swallow him whole. His nausea worsened as he thought of a life without Sam._

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean let the memory hit him and he sank to his knees. Sitting here in the kitchen alone and in the present, Dean felt nauseated once more. Maybe it was the memory, maybe it was the refrigerator. Either way, it was more than he could handle. He ran to the bathroom and emptied his stomach.

Feeling a little better, Dean went back into his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed once more, seemingly incapable of doing anything else. His mind wandered back to the last time he and Sam had shared a bed. It was the night just before Sam's surgery. Sam was home for one more night, a gift to him from the doctors who realized just how risky this surgery was, and that Sam's one night at home could very well be his last.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_Dean held on tight to Sammy, never wanting to let go. Sam, however, had more than cuddling in mind. If there was a possibility that this was the last night together Sam and Dean would have for a while, Sam wanted to seize the opportunity to make love to his husband, just in case it was the last time. _

_ Carefully, Sam turned to face Dean, trying not to remove Dean's arm from around his waist. Dean was awoken by the jostling of the bed. He felt Sam's lips eagerly brush against his own as Sam's hand reached between the bed sheets until it found its target beneath Dean's pajama pants. As Sam feared, Dean tensed at the touch. He would not risk physically hurting Sam._

_ "Sam, no. You know what the doctor said. We can't do this," Dean said. He wanted to cry. He knew he was breaking Sam's heart, as well as his own._

_"But what if this is it, Dean? What if this is the last chance we ever-"_

_ "Don't," Dean croaked. "Damn it, Sammy, don't you dare talk that way. We don't even know what this-," he faltered._

_ "Brain tumor," Sam prompted. Dean flinched, visibly. _

_ "We don't even know what this _thing_ is going to do to you. They might be able to get rid of it with the surgery! We don't know anything about it, yet. It could be practically nothing!"_

_ Sam sighed, defeated, "But it could be something, Dean. It could be everything."_

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Once more, Dean slept, allowing his memories to seep into his dreams. When he awoke, though tears stained his pillow, he felt closer to whole than he had in a long time. His guess was that he was beginning to chip at the iceberg of sleep deprivation that had formed over the last few weeks, due mainly to worrying over Sam. No night was as bad as the night before the surgery, and yet, entering Sam slowly, making love to his husband for one last time, and then holding him as he fell asleep, Dean felt more well-rested than he had in a while. And though he stayed awake crying through the night and into the morning as Sam slept peacefully in his arms, he was okay when he awoke. As soon as he remembered, though, that it was the day of Sam's surgery, he became anxious. Dean knew the worst case scenario and that it had a good chance of happening, but he had no idea how to prepare for the worst. He didn't need to, though, not at first, anyway. His most important job was to make sure that Sammy remained calm and knew just how much he was loved.

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_ A newly bald Sam was sitting up in his hospital bed. The nurses preparing him for surgery had just left, giving Sam and Dean a few moments alone. Dean was sitting in a chair beside Sam's bed. He leaned forward, getting as close to Sam as possible._

_ "Dean, I want to talk."_

_ "Okay. Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?"_

_ "Dean, if this is it-"_

_ "Sam, please. Please do not do this to me. You don't have to talk like this."_

_ "I'm sorry Dean, but I need to say this. Just in case. Please just listen."_

_ Dean nodded. He was trying not to get upset. He had to listen, at least to appease Sammy._

_ "If this is it, Dean, if my number is up and I don't come back out of that O.R. without a sheet over my head," Dean groaned a little at that part, but Sam continued, "then I want you to know how much I love you. I know you have some idea, but just know that I could never tell you how much you mean to me. I mean, there are not even words. And I'm not just saying this as some sort of goodbye speech or something. I mean it. I would mean it even if these were not the circumstances we found ourselves in. As cheesy and cliché as it sounds, you did change my life for the better, and you have made me happier than I ever could have imagined. I never even thought I would ever get married. I could not imagine it, because I could not imagine finding someone who could make me so happy. But you do. You really do. And I love you for that and a million other reasons."_

_ They both were crying now. There was a moment of silence until Dean quietly laughed._

_ "My turn?" he asked. Sam laughed and nodded. _

_ Dean became solemn and took Sam's hand._

_ "I really do not want to lose you, Sammy. That is not part of the plan, and you know it. So, just keep that in mind, you know. You really are the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I know I am the best thing ever to happen to you. We're a set, Sammy. Like the penguins, remember?"_

_ "Yeah, I remember." Dean was referring to a trip the pair had taken weeks before to the local zoo. While watching the penguins frolic and swim, Sam read aloud from the guidebook that penguins had one mate for their entire life. Nature's monogamists. Dean just nodded at the time, more interested in watching the penguins than hearing literature about them. Reading was always Sam's thing. Sam just shook his head, and joined Dean at the tanks. Later that night though, Dean, just before nodding off, told Sam that whether they were penguins or not was irrelevant. They would be together forever, regardless._

_ Dean continued. "And I don't want this to turn into some damned goodbye speech. This is an 'I'll-see-you-in-a-few-hours-when-you-are-all-better' speech. You got that, mister? So you go in there with your shiny bald head, and you show 'em how it's done."_

_ "Wow. That sounds eerily similar to a speech my freshman year football coach gave in the playoffs."_

_ "You were bald freshman year?"_

_ "Oh yeah. Total turn-on, right?"_

_ "Mmm. Granny panties and a peg-leg would be hot on you."_

_ "I think I'll take that as a compliment."_

_ "I think you should."_

_ "Samuel Winchester?" the nurse asked._

_ "Yes?"_

_ "We're ready for you."_

_ Dean's previously blithe expression transformed into an expression of pure fear and anxiety. He squeezed Sam's hand, then stood and gave him a deep kiss that did not last nearly long enough and told him he loved him, more than anything, he loved him. Then the nurses wheeled Sam away. _

_ Dean never saw him again._

_The first day after the surgery (Dean could not bring himself to refer to that day as the one on which Sam had died) had been the hardest. Dean did not trust himself to drive, so he called Alex to give him a lift. Alex obliged and Dean directed him to a motel on the outskirts of town. Dean walked into the motel office to book a room, allowing Alex to begin making the painful phone calls to relatives. When Dean returned to the car, he handed Alex a spare key to the house and asked Alex to take Sam's stuff home. Alex departed and Dean walked to his room. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the truth to settle in, waiting for the weight of his loss to crush the air from his lungs. Instead, there seemed to be an absence of pain. The shock still hung in the air. Dean slumped onto the bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He searched through his contact list until he reached the listing for Sam's parents. Dean took another deep breath and pressed the Send key._

_ Dean was a nervous wreck when it came time to meet Sam's parents. Dean had lost his own parents at a young age; his mom died from breast cancer four days before Dean's sixth birthday, his dad eight years later from liver disease. His uncle Bobby, who was not really his uncle at all, was the great man that had raised him. Much to Dean's happiness, Uncle Bobby was one of Sam's biggest fans. Dean could only hope to make even half as good an impression on Mr. and Mrs. Wesson as Sam had on Bobby. Sam drove, leaving Dean to fret over every little thing he could imagine._

_ "Sam, what if they don't like me?"_

_ "They did when they met you at the reunion."_

_ "Well, at the reunion, I was just some nice kid who gave their slacker nephew a ride to the reunion, not some stranger who's dating their son! And besides, I said like two words to them at that reunion."_

_ "Dean, for the millionth time, they will love you. Even if they didn't, which I know they will, I love you more than enough to make up for it."_

_ "But still. What if I goof up, or accidentally insult them, or something? Help me out here, Sammy!"_

_ They spent the next few moments talking. Dean asked questions about Sam's family and Sam gave advice when he could. The meeting was a success, but that was only a bonus for Sam. He did want his parents to like Dean, of course, but no matter how things had gone, as long as he and Dean were together, Sam would be all right._

_ "Mrs. Wesson? Hey, it's Dean," he said, his voice already beginning to break._

_ "Oh, Dean, I've been expecting your call. Please tell me everything went okay."_

_ "Um, well, actually…," Dean stumbled over the words, crying in earnest now, "It didn't. It didn't go okay. Sam's… he's…. Sam didn't make it," Dean sobbed._

_ "Oh, God," Sam's mother wailed. Dean cried harder._

_ There was only the sound of Mrs. Wesson's wailing for a moment, and then a sharp sound, as if the telephone receiver had crashed to the floor. A moment later, Sam's father came to the phone. He sounded as though he was crying, and Dean knew he was._

_ "Thank you for calling us, Dean. We love you."_

_ He hung up, not giving time for Dean to respond. It didn't matter; Dean wouldn't have been able to speak anyway. _

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

_ Raindrops fell heavy on the black umbrellas that were huddled beneath an overcast sky. Dean Winchester stood alone, without an umbrella, tears and rain blending on his face. It did not matter. It was difficult to care when you were as numb as he was. He was soaked to the core, but it did not matter. His favorite black suit dripped water. His favorite silk tie was ruining in the rain. It did not matter. Nothing did anymore. _

_ Just before Dean fell blindly to his knees, he whispered to the sky, "Forever, Sammy. I love you forever."_

_ Dean remembered when Sam started getting sick. He remembered hoping against hope that the first doctor they visited had good news, and then hoping that a second opinion would erase their worries. He remembered letting Sam hold him as he cried after finding out that the second opinion was the same, though it probably should have been the other way around. _

_ He remembered the gnawing feeling in his stomach when he started praying to the God he barely knew to save Sam. He remembered pleading with the surgeon to take care of Sam. He remembered the bottom falling out of his world when the doctor emerged after Sam's surgery, a look on his face that suggested everything but success. He remembered dry heaving into a wastebasket in the hospital lobby. He remembered falling to his knees on the concrete outside, renouncing the God he just recently became acquainted with. _

_ He remembered it all, though he tried hard to forget. And now he would add to his memory the feel of the rain as he bade Sam goodbye. Forever._

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

Dean stood at Sam's grave. It was one year ago to the day that Sam had died, and still Dean ached, ached deep down inside where no one besides Sam would ever be able to touch. Dean knelt at the edge of the mound that was sparsely covered by grass. He placed a bundle of flowers at the edge of Sam's tombstone, and then pressed his lips to the smooth granite rock. He told Sam the one thing he could never seem to say often enough when Sam was alive:

_**I love you.**_

**~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**

"So, you really think we'll be together forever?"

"No doubt. Forever and ever, babe," Dean said, tilting Sam's chin up with the index finger of his free hand. "I really, really love you, Sammy."

"I love you too, Dean. I love you too."


End file.
